


Ein Gleichnis, Una Similitudine

by budgeridoo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Multi, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/budgeridoo/pseuds/budgeridoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veneziano, through a pasta-related process, discovers that Germany is not only completely virginal, but has never been on a date in his life. The solution? Set Germany up with all the nice ladies! (We all know who Germany actually wants to date, though. Come on.)</p><p>Pairings are: attempted Germany/Fem!America, Belgium, Seychelles, Fem!Spain, Taiwan, and Ukraine; Germany—>Veneziano throughout, end Germany/Veneziano.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ein Gleichnis, Una Similitudine

 

> **1\. Ein Prolog, Un Prologo**

It started with ravioli.  
  
Most things tended to start with food, around Veneziano, but Germany had not been expecting… _this_.  
  
“You mean to say you’ve never slept with anyone?” Veneziano looked up at Germany as if someone had just shot a kitten right in front of him. “Anyone at all?”  
  
“I— ah— not exactly, no— well— um. No.” How had the conversation turned into this? The last thing Germany remembered talking about was how to prepare the dough, and Veneziano had said “No, no, you need to go more slowly, and gently— it’s not like punching things, it’s like— uh— it’s like…” And he’d trailed off, and then lit up in that way that made Germany’s insides do very strange things, and then said “Like making love to a beautiful woman!”  
  
Then Germany had grumbled “Oh, well, that’s a big help” before he actually registered what Veneziano was saying, and then the accursed blushing had started up. And then Veneziano had quickly backtracked and said “Or a beautiful man—” which was still not a big help, and Germany said so, and here they were.  
  
“But how?” And now Veneziano was being all touchy-touchy again, hands on Germany’s face. “With your looks, you should have pretty ladies all over you!”  
  
Germany wanted to say “No, actually, I don’t” or “That would be terrifying” or “Frankly, I don’t think I’d appreciate having anything all over me”, but the look of sudden determination on Veneziano’s face cut all those words off.   
  
“Don’t worry, Germany,” he chirped, “I know how to fix this! But first we have to finish making this ravioli.”

* * *

  
  
Apparently, when Veneziano said he knew how to fix this, he hadn’t meant let’s just leave this alone and never talk about it again, which was what Germany had hoped he’d meant; and neither had he meant it as a declaration of romantic intent, which was what Germany wouldn’t admit he’d hoped he meant, or even that he’d thought. Instead Veneziano had meant “Let’s make a list of all the ladies I could set you up with except for the ones who’re already dating and Liechtenstein and Hungary and Belarus because two of them are basically family and one of them will probably murder you and that would suck because then who would I make pasta with no Germany we have to do this  _sit back down_!”  
  
Germany obeyed.  
  
“Okay!” Veneziano tapped his teeth with the pencil. “Uh, how are we going to do this… Oh! I know this great coffee shop and those are always good places for dates and they sell hot chocolate too, it’s in Florence, I could set you up there!” And he beamed as though every problem in the world was now solved, which it wasn’t because Germany could still feel his face heating up every time Veneziano directed that smile at him, and Germany still woke up about half the time to Veneziano in his bed, and there had been this weird feeling in his gut every time he saw Veneziano flirt for as long as he could remember, and he didn’t know  _why_ , yet all he did was nod quietly because the alternative was seeing Veneziano disappointed.  
  
Veneziano actually cheered a little, bouncing in his seat. “All right! So how’re you for… ah, next Wednesday?”  
  
“Fine.” No.  
  
“I’ll give you the directions, you just have to show up! I’m sure America will love you!”  
  
America was first.  
  
America.  
  
 _Great_.

> **2\. Amerika, America**

America was sitting outside the coffee shop in a bright red coat when Germany showed up, absently stirring her drink. Whatever it was, it was strong- Germany could smell it even without sitting down, caffeine and artificial sweetener.  
  
“Hey, Germany,” she said, looking up. “Sorry I already ordered, but it’s freezing right now and also they don’t sell donuts here for some reason. Weird.” America gestured to the chair opposite. “Dude, get something to drink and sit down.”  
  
He did- hot chocolate- and sat, wondering where exactly he was supposed to look in situations like this. America was a friend of his, they had actually talked about things besides work on multiple occasions, and as if it wasn’t already awkward enough being on a- on a  _date_  without the other person involved being  _America_ -  
  
Fingers snapped in front of his face. “You there?”  
  
Germany jerked his head up. “I— yes. Sorry.”  
  
“Nah, it’s okay. So have you got any idea why Vene told me to be here?”  
  
Oh. America didn’t know. Germany didn’t know if this made the situation better or worse, because he could lie and say no, no idea but then America would find out like she always did but if he said yes, he’s trying to set us up- he didn’t know what would happen.  
  
Better sooner than later, Germany told himself, and said “He’s— ah— he’s trying to…  set me up on dates .”  
  
“He’s what now?” Oh, that smile was way too big for America to not have heard him.  
  
“Trying to get me a date,” Germany grumbled, staring into the hot chocolate.  
  
America snickered loudly, entirely cognizant of Germany’s blushing, and downed more of her coffee. Germany shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Stop laughing, please.”  
  
“Sorry, man. So. We’re on a date.” America’s smile was worse than Hungary’s and Russia’s put together, equal parts knowing and gleeful and oh-everybody’s-going-to-love-this-when-t hey-hear-about-it. “Is England gonna have to give you the shotgun talk?” She paused, and then continued, voice full of mock concern. “Is Prussia gonna give me the shotgun talk— oh wait, that’d probably actually be really scary. Did I ever tell you about the time in the Revolutionary War when he—”  
  
“Yes. So did he.” Also, probably Germany’s entire family would get involved in any future shotgun talks, but that was beside the point. “Um. So.” Small talk, small talk, how did one go about making small talk? He knew that was what was supposed to happen on… first dates, but how? What did America like? “Did— did anything interesting happen in, ah—” oh, what sports did America follow- “baseball?”  
  
“Baseball season doesn’t start for another month.”  
  
“Oh. I meant football.”  
  
“Yours or mine?”  
  
“Yours.”  
  
“Football season doesn’t start until fall. Nice try, though.” America took another gulp of coffee. “How’d Vene even get you to agree to this?”  
  
“I- I don’t know. He just did.”  
  
“Huh.” America nodded to herself. “So he’s setting you up with… girls?”  
  
“Yes? Why?”  
  
“Oh, nothing.” Now she was shaking her head just a little. “Nothing. So since it’s with girls, I guess Vene’s not on the list?”  
  
What? “Why would he be—!” Why would Veneziano set himself up with Germany, of all people-  
  
America snickered again. “Nothing. No reason— oh, man, look at the time, I have to go do family bonding with Canada, sorry. See you soon?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She stood, and so did Germany. “Nice talking to you, man.” And then she- oh God she hugged him, even if it was one-armed, she hugged him, what was Germany supposed to do with this? All he knew was standing there like some sort of plank probably was not how one reciprocated a hug from a friend, but how did one do that?  
  
And then it wasn’t a problem anymore, at least not immediately, because America pulled back and said “See you around” and then jogged off down the sidewalk and around the corner and left Germany with a cup of lukewarm hot chocolate and some questions for Veneziano, the first of which would be “Why America?”  
  
The rest… he’d figure them out later.

> **3\. Belgien, Belgio**

Belgium took a quick sip of her tea before saying “So Veneziano tells me we’re on a date?”  
  
“Mm.”   
  
“Well.” She glanced around the coffee shop- they’d moved indoors after it started raining- and fiddled with the end of her hair ribbon. “Nice place for it.”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“Oh, do speak up, I feel like I’m being audited.”  
  
“Sorry.” Germany shifted in his seat minutely, rubbing at the back of his neck. Belgium… was easier to talk to than America, if only because they’d worked together since the 1960s. Also, he’d researched how to make small talk after he’d come back from the… date with America, but that was the other problem. He was on a date, again, and he still didn’t know exactly how one behaved in a situation such as this.  
  
He’d asked Veneziano, and that hadn’t been a big help at all, he’d just said “Anything, really, except for offensive things but I’m sure you know that. You can do it!” which had been… nice but, again, supremely unhelpful.  
  
Anyway. “So. Have you seen any… any interesting television shows lately?”  
  
“Oh, no, I’ve been very busy. Work and such.” She took another sip, and Germany stirred his own tea. “You?”  
  
“Same, actually.”   
  
Belgium “hmm”ed. “Is Veneziano pushing you into these?”  
  
“I— What?”  
  
“Is he pushing you into going on dates?”  
  
“Uh. No?” Well,  _yes_ , he technically was, but it was more that the face Veneziano made when he was disappointed made Germany’s insides twist up in such a way that it was honestly better to just do what he wanted.   
  
“So yes.” Belgium set her cup down. “And you… you probably don’t want to upset him, so you do what he wants.”  
  
“… No.”  
  
“Of course, Germany.” Belgium nodded in what Germany felt was an entirely condescending manner, as well as one that implied several things that nobody really had any business implying. Then she began gathering up her things, stopping when she pulled a small foil-wrapped rectangle from one of her coat pockets.  
  
“By the way, Switzerland’s trying to get everyone to eat this, but, you know. His people skills.” Belgium sighed. “So now it’s my job somehow.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it be Liechtenstein’s?”  
  
“And let her talk to people? God forbid.” Belgium dropped the chocolate bar on the table. “I’ve another, so share with Veneziano, all right?” Another bar was placed next to the first. “I have to get going now, there’s a meeting with France coming up pretty soon. Take care.”  
  
“You too,” and then Belgium swept out of the coffee shop, umbrella high above her head.  
  
Germany took the chocolate home, and Veneziano enjoyed it very much.

> **4\. Seychellen, Seychelles**

Seychelles looked rather miserable when she showed up, and Germany hoped it wasn’t to do with him because he really didn’t know how to make people… not-miserable. He had a feeling that the patented feed-them-pasta-and-listen-to-them-vent technique wouldn’t be applicable here, if only because he didn’t know what Seychelles liked to eat, and besides part of it seemed to be the cold. Which wasn’t bad, but it was enough to cause Germany to quickly buy her a coffee, because a miserable-looking Seychelles tended to be something that the world cried out to fix.  
  
It was probably the eyes.  
  
“Thanks,” Seychelles said through faintly chattering teeth. “It’s, well, it’s lots warmer back home, you know.” She took a sip and sighed happily. “So… we’re on a date?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Okay, it’s just… I thought… ah, never mind.” Seychelles swept some stray hairs behind her ear. “Because Veneziano told me to be here, and I… I just, I sort of assumed, I guess.”  
  
“Assumed what?” Was this line of questioning going to become a common theme? They’d all asked him about Veneziano, as if they knew something secret they weren’t telling him, and it was becoming very odd, as Veneziano intruded on his life and thoughts quite enough already, thank you.  
  
“That… never mind.” She took another large sip of the coffee. “Uh. So how was your day?”  
  
“It went well enough. We completed some public works projects— well, the blueprints for them, anyway.” Germany stared at his hands- Veneziano had tried to guide him on the blueprints, all  _the arch should maybe go like this_  and  _let me shade it!_  despite Germany’s protests.  
  
“We?”  
  
“Veneziano and I— _what_?” Seychelles had started laughing- under her breath, but there- and it was extremely disconcerting because what was so odd about working with the same person very often? “He’s good at drawing, that’s useful for the blueprints— what?”  
  
“Nothing. Mine was okay, they’re still worried about the cost of living stuff. You know, I don’t think they’ll ever stop being. Do you know how that is?”  
  
“Mm. Yes.”  
  
Was he making small talk? Germany couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment- he was really improving. Veneziano would be proud, even more so than when he’d brought the chocolate from Belgium (and he hadn’t stopped being proud even when Germany actually explained its origins).  
  
Seychelles straightened her blue skirts and finished the coffee, humming to herself. “If you ever want to come visit, I’d be happy to have you over. Usually it’s just France and Madagascar who show up, so it’d be nice to have some new faces.” She smiled. “You could bring Veneziano too, he’s always nice to have over. Not that you aren’t.”  
  
“I… thanks. I’ll consider it.”  
  
“Thanks!” Standing up, Seychelles continued, “Sorry to cut this short, but America said she wanted to talk to me really soon. Thank you for the coffee, by the way, it was very good.”  
  
“You’re welcome. See you at the next world meeting?”  
  
“Sure!” And Seychelles trotted briskly down the street and was gone.  
  
When Germany returned home, Veneziano was indeed proud, and was very enthusiastic about the possibility of visiting Miss Seychelles, wouldn’t that be  _wonderful_ , Germany?  
  
Yes, he said, it would.

> **5\. Spanien, Spagna**

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Spain smiled, tapping her fingernails on the side of her cup- they were painted red and yellow, if she’d already started gloating about her football teams Germany would- do something, he wasn’t sure what, but it would be passive-aggressive enough to make Austria proud.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Veneziano. Isn’t he just adorable?” Well, yes, he was- oh, Germany had not just thought that- although handsome was also applicable- oh, he had  _not_  just thought that.  
  
“I guess he is. Sort of.”  _Why_  was Germany blushing?  
  
“Sort of?” Was it his imagination or did Spain look cunning? “Only sort of? With those big brown eyes—” well, they were… attractive enough- “—and all that hair, you just want to pet his head it’s so fluffy—” Germany most certainly did not want to pet Veneziano’s hair- “—and the way he smiles, it’s just—” Spain did have a point, Veneziano’s smile never failed to set off something weird and fluttery in Germany’s chest and  _why was he blushing Goddammit_ -  
  
“Okay okay okay he’s cute I agree would you  _stop_ —”  
  
Spain laughed. “Of course, Germany. But you have to admit, he’s just adorable. Has been since he was a kid.”  
  
Germany wondered why he felt like agreeing to the last point as well, but instead tried to change the subject to something that wouldn’t make his cheeks go quite this red. “Ah… how are your turtles?”  
  
“Oh, they’re doing fantastically, but there’re just so many, I couldn’t keep them all so I gave some to France and Portugal and Prussia and Romano and made them promise not to eat them.”  
  
“So that’s where Prussia’s new turtle came from.”  
  
“Is he taking good care of him?” Spain leaned forward, eyes intense. “He’s not hungry or sad?”  
  
Germany was rather taken aback. “… Karl’s doing well.”  
  
“Good!” And Spain straightened up, smiling again. “Oh, by the way, I was talking to Veneziano the other day and he says you’ve made a lot of progress with this… dating thing.”  
  
“I… yes, he’s told me so.”  
  
“He told me Seychelles told him you seemed a bit less awkward than America said! Also that he’s glad you’re making new friends. It really is time you get out more.” Spain nodded, eyes closed, with a small smile on her face, and drummed her fingers on the cup again.  
  
“… Is that so.”  
  
“Yep!” Spain looked at her wristwatch quickly. “Oh dear, I have to go talk to Belgium soon— do you know where she is?”  
  
Germany nodded once, briskly. “With Netherlands, I think. I’m not entirely sure.”  
  
“Worth a try.” Spain stood and shook Germany’s hand. “Nice talking to you, Germany! I’ll see you at the world meeting, all right?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Grinning, Spain sauntered away from the coffee shop.  
  
When Veneziano learned that Romano had received a turtle and he had not, he grumbled about the unfairness of it all, but smiled again and said how he hoped Romano would treat it kindly, that’s how you should always treat animals and gifts, especially from Spain because she’s pretty but one time I saw someone say something rude to her and she knocked him over so I really hope Romano is nice to his new turtle, but why didn’t he tell me he got one, Germany?  
  
Germany had to admit he didn’t know, but the image of Spain beating people down was one that seemed extremely plausible to him.

> **6\. Taiwan, Taiwan**

Her tea had a very strong smell- sort of fruity and sweet, and rather heavy, and she drank it in large gulps. “Japan and America tell me—”  
  
“Yes, Veneziano is setting me up on these.”  
  
“—and so did Belgium and Seychelles and Spain.” Another gulp. Germany sipped at his coffee.  
  
“Uh.”  
  
“ _And_  China.” Taiwan rolled her eyes for the briefest of moments and continued. “Japan seemed pretty upset about it.”  
  
“Really?” He hadn’t told Germany if that was the case, but then, it was Japan.  
  
“Oh, yes. He thought you and Veneziano were… well, together. So did I.” Taiwan pursed her lips reflectively. “So did most of us, actually.”  
  
What?  
  
Wait.  
  
What?  
  
 _Why_?  
  
Why had people assumed that Germany and Veneziano were a- a- a  _couple_? Just because they worked together and ate together and Veneziano slept in Germany’s bed and Germany occasionally baked him cake and they’d been practically inseparable for who knew how many decades and Veneziano knew when Germany was happy or sad and hugged and kissed him and said he loved Germany and oh God that was it.  
  
Because Veneziano would say “I love you, Germany!” and over the years in the back of Germany’s head there had grown a response to that, and the hope that Veneziano meant it, and.  
  
And Germany realized that Taiwan was still talking and he was staring wide-eyed into his coffee cup, and he jerked his head up, trying to clear it of those thoughts before he suffered a repeat of Valentine’s Day.  
  
“—but that’s China for you— uh?” Taiwan gave Germany a concerned look and reached out to pat him on the arm. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m fine,” croaked Germany. A lie- he wasn’t, not at all, he loved his best friend who most likely didn’t return the feelings- Veneziano had much better targets for his affection than Germany, and he acted the way he acted with Germany with everyone, and-  
  
“You don’t look all right. Drink,” and Taiwan leaned across the table and pressed her mug to his mouth. Reflex took over and Germany took a few sips of the hot, sweet tea before he pushed it away with a weak “Thanks, Taiwan.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” And then she took over the conversation again with her quiet voice, which was completely fine with Germany because he really didn’t feel up to talking and it was nice to hear about what Asia was up to anyway.  
  
That evening, Germany didn’t talk to Veneziano beyond niceties, and when Veneziano snuck into his bed, Germany didn’t sleep, just tossed and turned.

 

> **7\. Ukraine, Ucraina**

Talking was harder than ever.  
  
Not that Ukraine was unpleasant, not at all, but she was… well, Ukraine. And Germany didn’t know where to look.  
  
But it was important that Germany talk, because Ukraine was really his last chance to ask, because talking about this to Prussia or Austria would be a disaster.  
  
Now or never.  
  
It couldn’t be  _that_  hard, could it?  
  
Germany took a deep breath.  
  
“Ah— Miss Ukraine. I have a question.”  
  
Ukraine looked up from her mug of milky coffee. “Yes?”  
  
“I— well— I have this— friend.” Yes. That was a good start. “And he has this friend.”  
  
Ukraine nodded.  
  
“And he wants to tell this friend that he l—” Oh no, he couldn’t start blushing now, he’d give it away- “—that he l-likes him. A lot. But, uh, he’s not sure how. And. Um. He’s not really sure if his friend likes him t-that way either and. That’s— that’s his problem.”  
  
Ukraine smiled patiently. “Germany, if I were you, I’d just tell Veneziano.”  
  
“I— that’s not—” Germany sighed defeatedly. “How did you know?”  
  
She kept smiling. “Because America and Belgium and Seychelles and Spain and Taiwan and I held a meeting to discuss it. And also, I am sorry to say, everyone’s known for years.” She brightened. “I am glad you are finally acknowledging it!”  
  
“Um.”  
  
“I am afraid I haven’t seen much of Veneziano lately, but I’m sure he does like you. Why don’t you ask him?”  
  
Germany stared at the table and admitted “… don’t know how. ”  
  
“Hm.” Ukraine tapped her chin. “You could ask if he wants to go out for… for coffee, as more than friends, and see what he says.”  
  
“What if he says no?”  
  
“Ah. Hm. Oh! The world meeting’s coming up in… a week, is it? You could ask him there, and we would all be there as moral support. How does that sound?”  
  
“Okay. Um, whey you say ‘we’, you mean—”  
  
“America and Belgium and Seychelles and—”  
  
“—Spain and Taiwan and yourself. Right. Of course.”  
  
“Probably Hungary and Liechtenstein as well.” Ukraine rested her chin in her hands. “Does that sound okay?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Oh, wonderful. I will see you in a week, then?” Ukraine stood, and then patted him on the shoulder. “You are a very nice young man, Germany. I am sure Veneziano will say yes.”  
  
Well. That made one person who was.

> **8\. Venedig, Venezia**

The world meeting arrived far too soon, but both Germany and Veneziano were too caught up in their work to spend much time together, so at least Germany had time to figure out what he was going to say.  
  
Not that he actually did figure out what he was going to say, because the advice books were not a big help, and running anything by Prussia would just make him laugh and call Germany a dork, and suddenly Germany was on a train to Brussels with lots of notes and no idea how he was going to talk to Veneziano.  
  
Especially since they turned out to be sharing a room- which happened a lot anyway, but it made the whole I-am-going-to-ask-him-on-a- _date_  thing even more awkward.  
  
And then the third day arrived, and he was surprised after the last meeting by America pulling him into a side room.  
  
“All right,” she hissed. “You got a plan?”  
  
“ _What._ ”  
  
“For asking Vene! Do. You. Have. A plan.”  
  
“I— let go of me.”  
  
America did, and Germany straightened up and looked around the room. There were the usual suspects- Belgium, Seychelles, Spain, Taiwan, Ukraine- and Liechtenstein looking very determined, and Hungary looking gleeful.  
  
“I asked him to be coming this way, he’ll be here soon,” said Liechtenstein. “You really should have some sort of plan, Germany.”  
  
“I was just going to— to ask him if he wanted to get coffee,” mumbled Germany.  
  
“That is a plan, sort of,” said Seychelles, shrugging.  
  
“What do you mean sort of? Was I supposed to do something else?” Germany hissed. Oh dear God, what if he was?  
  
Taiwan turned from her post by the door. “Sst! He’s coming!”  
  
And then Spain and Belgium pushed him out the door and Hungary leaned out and whispered “Good luck!” and there was Veneziano walking down the corridor.  
  
He perked up when he saw Germany, and hurried towards him. “Hello! Liechtenstein said you’d be here and you wanted to talk to me, what is it?”  
  
Oh God.  
  
Germany couldn’t do this.  
  
He heard, somewhere out of sight, America whispering  _just say it, just say it, oh my freaking God just say it already_  and could almost see the  _go on_  hand motions Hungary would be making, and Veneziano said “You look kind of red, are you okay?”  
  
“’M fine.”  
  
“Good! So what did you want to say?”  
  
Germany took a very deep breath and, eyes fixed on the floor, hands behind his back, said “Willyougooutwithmeforcoffeeasadate.”  
  
“Uh?”  
  
Oh no, he hadn’t wanted to, oh God what was Germany supposed to do now-  
  
“That was kind of fast, could you say it again?”  
  
-oh. “Will— ah— will you go out with me. For coffee. As a— a— date.” Germany cleared his throat and toed the carpet and tried to ignore the dull red flush that was no doubt all over his face.  
  
“Hm.” And Veneziano smiled, he  _smiled_ , and said “Of course, Germany! Where are we going- what’s that noise?” and there were cheers coming from inside the side room.  
  
Veneziano poked his head in. “Oh! Hi, Miss Hungary! And Miss Liechtenstein and Miss Seychelles and Miss Ukraine and Miss Taiwan and—” And then America ushered him out the door with a “Hey, Vene, now go on a date,” and Veneziano took Germany’s hand-  _held his hand!_ \- and said “Let’s go, then!”  
  
They did, and the coffee was very good indeed.

> **9\. Ein Epilog, Un Epilogo**

When Romano found out, he made some loud noise halfway between  _what the fuck_  and  _goddamn finally_.  
  
When Prussia found out, he made some loud noise that was mostly  _hell yes are you going to get laid yet_.  
  
When the plotters (as Germany had thought of them) found out, he became the center of a quite alarming group hug.  
  
When the rest of the world found out, most of them said something along the lines of  _wait, they weren’t already?_  
  
Veneziano thought the whole thing rather funny, and so did Germany, although he thought ‘funny’ more in terms of ‘odd’.  
  
And two years later, Veneziano said  _uh, do you want to, you know, um… make ravioli_  and it took fifteen minutes and the removal of half his clothes for Germany to figure out that actual ravioli was not the subject on hand here, but he didn’t mind that much.  
  
And the dates were a little less awkward now.


End file.
